


I like your Face... book

by c00nt



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, But what else is new?, Carmilla is a sarcastic broody gay, F/F, Facebook AU, Hollstein - Freeform, It starts out Hollence but ends up Hollstein because duh, Laura is a tiny angry gay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00nt/pseuds/c00nt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sarcastic stranger starts trolling Laura on a mutual Facebook friend's wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I used paragraph breaks to mark the Facebook sections.  
> Please let me know if this formatting doesn't (or does!) work :D 
> 
> Also, I hope you enjoy reading this as much I enjoyed writing it.

You try not to feel too-too bad about opening a new tab. 

After all, it’s not _really_ procrastinating if you’re just going to check your Facebook. And Tumblr. And Twitter. And definitely not your e-mail just in case your philosophy professor has assigned yet even _more_ reading for tomorrow. 

This way, you can claim ignorance and pretend that you would have done the work if only you had known about it.

Ha!

You scroll through the newsfeed, but not much has changed since the last time you checked Facebook. Which might have been less than five minutes ago.

But in your defense, the book you have to read is extremely longwinded, dry, and boring. And what kind of jerky jerk assigns homework _before_ the first day of classes anyway?

In fact…

You click back to your profile and update your status about just that.

Notifications start popping up almost instantly.

 

 **Lola Perry:** @Laura Hollis, you had all summer to do the reading and you know it.

 **S Lafontaine:** Bummer frosh… but you probs won’t be the only one who didn’t do it so don’t sweat it! :D

 **Lola Perry:** @S Lafontaine As a floor don, you shouldn’t condone this kind of procrastinatory behavior. You’re supposed to serve as a role model — not encourage bad habits!

 **S Lafontaine:** I AM being a good role model!! Faking your way thru responsibilities is an ESSENTIAL life skill, Perrrrrr!!

 **Wilson TheBro Kirsch:** dont worry laura hottie-llis. i did the reading so u can just copy of me 2moro ;) ;) ;)

 **Lola Perry:** @Wilson TheBro Kirsch WILSON JASON KIRSCH!!

 

You roll your eyes and return to the Home page, scrolling through the newsfeed once more. You like a couple of selfies without really looking at them, hoping to rack up some good karma points. There’s a BuzzFeed quiz that will let you know which Taylor Swift song you should play at your wedding, but you manage to ignore it.

It’s bad enough that you’re on Facebook, but actively finding ways to prolong your stay would be somewhat worse.

Somehow.

With a heavy groan-sigh, you refresh the page for one last run-through and see a photo Lafontaine shared from **U. S. Senator Bernie Sanders**. It’s just a simple graphic with a quote about making public universities free, but you like it and write a comment anyway. 

There’s no wrong time to be supportive, right? 

You’re about to close the browser to (maybe) get started on the reading when a red 1 appears at the righthand corner with a little pop. 

Your friends have long since stopped bantering on your status, so it couldn’t be any of them. Or it could be. They’re not really the best at letting things go. 

Well, mild curiosity is as good a reason as any to keep procrastinating, so you check the notification. 

Huh. 

Apparently, a cartoon black cat (if you’re to go off the profile picture anyway) named **Mircalla Karn Stein** also commented on **S Lafontaine** ’s link. You rack your brain, but can’t remember Laf every mentioning a Mircalla. Not that it really matters because any friend of theirs is of course a friend of yours, especially if they support— 

Okay, what the what.

 

 **Laura Hollis:** YAAAASSSSSS! #FEELTHEBERN

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Pfft.

 

Pfft? 

_Pfft????_

You’re not sure if it’s directed to you or Bernie, but you’re already huffing in anger.

Lafontaine once texted you one of those e-card memes that read: “Cancel all my meetings. Someone on the internet is wrong,” and wrote “it u.” And you laughed because it was accurate and you really needed to learn to pick your battles.

But _this_ is different because _this…_ is about _politics._

 

 **Laura Hollis:** Um, excuse me, but who the hell are you?

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Well, cutie, I’m assuming you know how to read and my name is right there... But then again, you’re also supporting Bernie Sanders, so I understand that I’m probably expecting too much from you.

**Laura Hollis:** Excuse me?????

**Laura Hollis:** What do you have against BERNIE???

**Laura Hollis:** What do YOU have against FREE tuition????

**Laura Hollis:** You’re probably just AFRAID to #FeelTheBern !!

 

That should do the trick. 

 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Please tell me you know how to communicate without excessive capitalization and punctuation.

 

Or not. 

  
****

**Laura Hollis:** I’ll stop CAPITALIZING everything as soon as YOU stop being such a PRETENTIOUS JERLK ! !

**Laura Hollis:** JERK*, you JERK!!

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Wow, cupcake. You really know how to wound a girl. 

 

You’re not seeing red. You’re not seeing red. You’re not…

 

**Laura Hollis:** Let me guess…… You’re voting Republican

**Laura Hollis:** Cause GUESS W H A T

**Laura Hollis:** #BernieTrumpsTrump !!!!

 

There’s no reply for a good two minutes, so you decide to celebrate with a well-earned cookie. But when you get back from the kitchen, there’s a long response waiting for you. 

 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Oh please. Politics is a ridiculous game played by children who think they can impose order on an arbitrary universe. But even you have to admit that Bernie is being ridiculously idealistic with his goals. Or are you really that much of a doe-eyed naïve, provincial girl?

Also, why are you bending over backwards for this guy? 

“We need to give our kids, regardless of their race or income, a fair shot at attending college and blah blah blah.” 

How exceptionally revolutionary of the senator to suggest upholding the very bare minimum of human decency. I’d like to see him put his efforts where his mouth is.

And I’m glad he exceeds all of your wildest expectations, cutie, but you should at least try to dream bigger than this. 

Or… to put it in terms you might understand: 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** #TheBar’sTOOLOW! 

 

It takes you a while to get through the whole spiel because Lafontaine keeps interrupting you with Facebook messages and texts, begging you to “omgg chill the fuck out D: ” You shoot back a quick apology on both platforms before settling for a more civil approach.

 

**Laura Hollis:** Punctuations don’t get hashtagged #justfyi 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Lol

 

That almost sets you off again, but you take it out on your cookie instead. 

Cramming the chocolatey goodness into your mouth, you close the browser and promise yourself that you won’t go back online until you finish your work.  But after flipping aimlessly through your philosophy reading for who knows how long (not that long), you finally throw in the towel. Honestly, it was a lost cause long before that stupid Facebook debacle and you know it.

You check your phone while brushing your teeth, and roll your eyes because Mircalla had gone and liked every single one of your comments. But then your annoyance is quickly extinguished by a familiar flutter in the pit of your stomach. 

 

**Danny Lawrence** , **Wilson TheBro Kirsch** , and 5 other people recently liked your post: “I can’t believe Professor Vordenberg assigned homework BEFORE…”

 

That gorgeous red-headed lit TA with legs that go on for days and days (which is how long you mulled over whether you should request her or not before girling the hell up) has been liking a lot of your posts lately. Which definitely means something. Although it’s unclear exactly _what_ that something is, attention is attention, right? 

You spit out the excess toothpaste and smile at yourself in the mirror.

Tonight hasn’t been a total bust after all. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness!  
> Buuut this is way longer than the last chapter, so maybe that makes up for it?  
> Hope you all enjoy (:

“Whatcha doing?” 

You quickly lock your phone.

“Um, nothing!” you say because it’s less pathetic than admitting that you’ve been obsessively refreshing your Facebook app to see if a certain tall literature TA has liked your selfie yet.

Kirsch doesn’t notice your hasty tone and slumps into the seat next to you with an easy nod.

“So, you finish the reading?”

You snort. “Yup! I got through all of the first two pages.”

There’s a pause as Kirsch looks at you blankly. “So… you _didn’t_ finish the reading?”

“Kirsch, I didn’t do anything that even _remotely_ resembles finishing the reading,” you say rolling your eyes. “I got… distracted.”

“Oh, oh, yeah! I saw that cyber catfight on Facebook!”

“No, don’t call it _thaaat_.” 

“Anyway that’s too bad ‘cause I think a nerd hottie like you'd be super into the last chapter.” 

You ignore the nickname and open your laptop to check your Facebook yet again. “Yeah? And why’s that?” 

Excitement creeps up when you see a new notification, but it’s just Perry letting you know that she likes your outfit.

What’s the point of spending two hours and five outfit changes on your back-to-school selfie if the one person who was supposed to notice… didn’t? You bury your disappointment just in time to catch the tail end of Kirsch’s explanation.

“… pretty fun! I thought so anyway. I mean, the philosophy chick—uh, _author,_ ” Kirsch hastily corrects himself when he notices your pursed lips. “Yeah, the author had a lot of points that weren’t so awesome, but at the end she does a super intense analysis of _The Wire,_ and I know how much you dig television, so…” He punctuates his reasoning with a shrug.

Huh. That actually does sound interesting. Maybe you should finish the reading after all… But is it worth believing Kirsch and doing your already overdue homework or should you just move onto the next assignment? Time management hasn’t always been your strongpoint, and honestly both choices seem way too yawn-worthy to pursue seriously. 

Speaking of time management, a Buzzfeed quiz entitled “Which _Orphan Black_ Clone Are You?” catches your eye. You kinda remember taking this one before, but you didn’t like the results (Allison!? _Allison!????!?!?!?_ ) so you might as well retake it. 

You breeze through most of the questions, pausing only to reconsider the responses that might have yielded that totally less-than-accurate outcome last time.

“Hah!” you say when you see your results. Now _that’s_ more like it. You turn to Kirsch, but he’s staring out the window and watching a squirrel groom itself. Yeah, you probably shouldn’t interrupt that.

You click back to Facebook and see three more Danny-unrelated notifications, which of course is fine. And cool. And fine because you’re cool and fine with it because why wouldn’t you be, right? Right.

Anyway… You share your quiz results, making sure to tag Lafontaine in the post. As always, they respond really quickly.

  

**S Lafontaine:**?? Didn’t you already take this quiz? 

**Laura Hollis:** No, shut up

**S Lafontaine:** Ohh.. so did I imagine that long rant about how Buzzfeed needs to hire better writers? Because their knowledge of pop culture is so lacking that “it flies in the face of journalistic integrity” ? 

**Laura Hollis:** How dare you use my perfectly sound reasoning against me

**Laura Hollis:** It doesn’t matter anyway!! It’s what I got NOW that counts!! 

**Laura Hollis:** All’s well that ends well, right? 

**S Lafontaine:** … That doesn’t really apply here. 

**Laura Hollis:** Just take the quiz!

 

After a brief pause, Laf posts a screenshot: 

  

**S Lafontaine:** lol I got Cosima too. 

**Laura Hollis:** YAAAASSSSSS! We’re clone twins!! 

**Laura Hollis:** Wait, aren’t all clones technically twins…. 

**S Lafontaine:** Were you surprised? We’re both kinda really gay and there aren’t many options, hahah

**S Lafontaine:** And nooooooooo

**Laura Hollis:** My sexuality isn’t the most interesting thing about me. 

**Laura Hollis:** WHAT! Why not?!

**S Lafontaine:** Do you reeeeeeally want to know….? 

**Laura Hollis:** … You’re right. Forget I asked :P 

**S Lafontaine:** AwwWww, you never want to make crazy science with me! 

 

With a slight shake of your head, you like Laf’s comment. You look over at Kirsch again, but he’s still looking out the window even though you’re pretty sure the squirrel’s long gone. 

You’re looking at another Buzzfeed quiz ("How Well Do You Know Your Homophones") when Professor Vordenberg bursts into the classroom with a purposeful stride. 

“Ah, students! Forgive me, am I late?”

The pre-class chatter dies down and Kirsch finally shifts his attention from the window.

“Well?” Vordenberg leans expectantly on his cane. “Am I _late_?”

There’s a slight pause before a couple of students nod and mumble their assent. 

“Wrong!” snaps Vordenberg, making you jump. “As I am the professor and therefore the highest authority in this lecture hall, I shall be the one deciding when class begins, and I say that this class does not start until I walk in.” 

Oh no. It’s going to be one of _those_ classes. And Lafontaine wasn’t even there to giggle with you at unintentional references to popular song lyrics. You’re totally going to fail this class. 

“Now about your reading assignment…”

Yup. Totally. Fail.

The professor paces and flourishes his cane as he’s giving his lecture, and you feel your attention already drifting. Should you be taking notes? Everyone else seems to be taking notes. Well, everyone except Kirsch, that is… Okay, yeah, you should definitely be taking notes. 

Grudgingly, you pull up a Word document and type out today's date at the top. But you don’t get a chance to do much more because a tiny _blip!_ interrupts you. 

Fudge!

Your cheeks flush as you quickly mute your laptop. When it’s clear that no one else has noticed (or cared) about the noise, you relax your shoulders in relief. 

Volume, bad. 

_Facebook_ , bad. 

Unless, of course, that alert was from a certain long-awaited like (or comment!!) because then Facebook would be good. Very, _very_ good. 

You check your Facebook tab, and your excitement crashes once more only to flare up all hot and fiery. You’re raging even before you fully register why. 

 

**Mircalla Karn Stein** also commented on your link: “@S Lafontaine TOLD YOU! Delphine and I were meant to…” 

  

How?? You’re not even Facebook friends! 

And how could one person possibly contain all that stupid, self-entitled sense of superiority in one stinking human body?

 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** You would. 

**Laura Hollis:** … ok? Care to elaborate? 

**S Lafontaine:** Oh no

**Laura Hollis:** I would... what? Watch Orphan Black? Get Cosima as my result? 

**Laura Hollis:** Cause, yeah, I’m super gay, hardy har har

**Laura Hollis:** Laugh it up, I’m soooooooooooooo stereotypical ~

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** You would… take Buzzfeed quizzes. Honestly, creampuff, is there anything about you that doesn’t outright scream “Millennial” ?  


**Laura Hollis:** What are you talking about? 

**S Lafontaine:** come on, guise. Does this really need to happen??

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Buzzfeed and hashtags and #Berns, oh my.

 **Laura Hollis:** OMG WHY ARE YOU SOO  P R E T E N T I O U S  

**Laura Hollis:** Or better yet HOWWWWW ARE YOU THIS PRETENTIOUS????

**S Lafontaine:** Alright… Im unfollowing this post lol

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Ah, there we go… I was wondering when you’d grace us with your patently excessive capitalization.

 **Laura Hollis:** I AM GOING TO KILL YOU

 **Laura Hollis:** MEET ME INT HE PIT!!!!!!!!!1!

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:  :** D

 **Lola Perry:** @Laura Hollis, aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?

 **Lola Perry:** @Laura Hollis Wait, are you on Facebook DURING class?

 

“Ow!” 

You rub your side and shoot Kirsch a dirty look for elbowing you so hard. _"What?"_  you hiss at him.

Kirsch doesn’t say anything and just jerks his head towards the front. You follow his gaze and notice that everyone in the classroom—including Professor Vordenberg—is looking at you.

“Oh.”

“So glad you could finally join us, Fräulein,” Vordenberg says. “I hope I wasn’t _interrupting_ your cyber endeavors with my troublesome lesson.”

“Not at all! I was just, uh… taking notes?” you supply weakly.

“Yes? Taking notes, you say? Well, if that’s the case, I suppose you wouldn’t mind sharing your thoughts on Caroline Levine’s thesis.”

“Caroline Levine’s… thesis…” You try not to stare too blankly at the professor.

“The _reading_ , Fräulein. Surely, you at least did the homework that had been assigned to you over break. You had all summer to do it after all.”

Perry’s point from last night rears its ugly head and starts screaming that it told you so. Which is as obvious as it's unhelpful.

“Right… _That_ Caroline Levine.” You rack your memory for something— _anything!—_ you could say about the stupid book. Unfortunately, you can’t even recall the two pages you _did_ read.

“We’re _waiting._ ”

“Okay… to be completely honest—” 

Kirsch cuts you off with a gentle hand to your shoulder. “Actually, Professor V, Laura and I were just talking about this last night.” He directs his attention to you. “Remember when you said that all the forms C. L. listed were basically the same? That was _so_ rad.” 

“I did?” 

“She did?” Vordenberg echoes.

The philosophy professor sounds skeptical, but Kirsch stays the course: 

“Yeah! Because Rhythms are just temporal Wholes… and Hierarchies and Networks are just… networks of Wholes… A Whole system!” 

Vordenberg just taps his foot, staring intently at the two of you with a drooping frown. You try not to fidget too much under his suspicious gaze. Kirsch gives your shoulder a soft squeeze, reminding you to relax and you kinda do.

“Very well then,” Vordenberg finally says. “Class is dismissed. We shall reconvene on Wednesday and discuss the ramifications of privileging literary form over historical context.” 

With a heavy sigh of relief, you quickly gather your stuff and rush past the professor, hoping he won't—

“And Fräulein?”

—do that.

You reluctantly step back from the doorway and face Vordenberg with a forced smile. “Yes, professor?”

“You would do well to start taking your notes in a _note_ book _,_ " he says, leaning on his cane. “Your new-fangled machines have no place in my classroom. Is that clear?” 

“Yup. So clear. Crystal queer, in fact!” Your eyes widen with realization. “ _CLEAR_ ," you all but scream."I was saying 'clear'!Crystal _. Clear._ As in I understand completely and absolutely and _clearly_.” 

Vordenberg manages to look both unamused and unimpressed at the same time.

“... Okay, awesome, bye!” You rush out the door and run straight into Kirsch, who apparently was waiting for you outside the classroom this whole time.

“Whoa, little nerd. You all right?” He leads you away from the hallway and out of the general student traffic.

“Yes… Thanks to you!" You playfully shove at his arm. "Seriously, you totally saved my butt back there.”

Kirsch shrugs noncommittally. “I told you last night that you could copy off me. Bro code means I keep my bro word.”

“Word… bro.” You grin and high-five his outstretched hand. “Anyway, speaking of bros… I need to go murder one specific ‘bro’ right about now.”

You aggressively power-walk towards the nearest exit, but Kirsch catches up to you easily with his long legs.

“So, who’s the dead bro walking anyway?”

“Ugh, Lafontaine!” you growl. “I swear they spend every single waking moment of their life, spamming my phone with _ridiculous_ queer puns. If they hadn’t sent that stupid pun this morning, I wouldn’t have embarrassed myself in front of Vordenberg! I mean… _yes_ , I still would have embarrassed myself maybe, but that was way worse than I could have managed on my own!… I think!… Probably!”

Kirsch just nods along with you in silent support.

//

**Lola Perry:** @Laura Hollis You better get off Facebook this instant! 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** My, my… Is the cupcake really goofing off during class time? How oh so scandalous.

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein You really shouldn’t be distracting students from their studies. Especially on Facebook — you don’t even like Facebook!

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Look who’s talking…

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** But fine. I have things to do, people to do, and places to do them at, so I’ll leave the little munchkin alone for now.

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein Oh, don’t be so crass...

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** *rolls eyes* Yes, mother.

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Hey, take the quiz.

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein Why? I don’t even watch that show.

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Do it and I’ll leave! For real!

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein If you insist.

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein Okay, I got my results. The quiz says I’m a “Rachel Duncan”.

 **Mircalla Karn Stein:** Ha! I knew it.

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein Well, what does it mean?

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein I read my description and I don’t really care for what it says…

 **Lola Perry:** @Mircalla Karn Stein Are you there? Have you already left?

 **Lola Perry:** @Laura Hollis @S Lafontaine Will somebody tell me what this means??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaaaaaaat? ;D
> 
> By the way, the reading assignment is a real book called: "Forms: Whole, Rhythm, Hierarchy, Network" by Caroline Levine. It's.... all right. 
> 
> Also, the reason why Carmilla can comment on Laura's post is 'cause Laura tagged a mutual friend... In case you were wondering, haha!
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you liked, didn't like, hated, will kill me for... It's all welcome! 
> 
> \- SC


	3. Chapter 3

A stuffed pig bounces off your shoulder, breaking your concentration mid-cyber-argument. You whip your head around just in time to catch a tiny purple giraffe with your face.

“Calm. Your. Nipples!” Betty tosses yet another plush toy—this time, an oversized kitty—in your direction, but you easily deflect the attack by hiding behind your yellow pillow.

“They’re calm! _I’m_ calm,” you insist, chucking all the soft projectiles back onto your roommate’s bed. “ _You_ calm down! … _Your_ nipples!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Betty mutters, clearly unconvinced. “You talking to that Millarca chick again?”

“Mircalla,” you correct automatically before hastily turning back to your screen because your roommate is 100% right. And annoying.

Rolling her eyes, she flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Whatever. You know what I meant. Besides, I can always tell when you’re arguing with her on Facebook.”

You lower your laptop to level your eyes with your roommate’s. “… _How_..?”

“You huff a lot and always smash the keys extra hard. Plus, your face does that funny scrunchy— _There it is, right there!_ ”

It takes great effort, but you un-scrunch your features to the best of your abilities before Betty’s triumphantly accusatory finger. So, she might actually kinda have a point maybe…

“Okay, but this wasn’t my fault! _She_ totally started it this time!” Which was worth clarifying because even _you_ had to admit that the last couple of tiffs were absolutely instigated by you. 

But today, Mircalla crashed your thread on the Silas U French department’s Facebook page by posting irrelevant screen caps of Harry Potter, often taken out of context to sound dirty. All because you had let slip once that you were a diehard Potterhead.

It was especially frustrating because you just posted a simple sentence about your day in French for extra credit, but now you’re 25 comments deep in discussing the ethics of misrepresenting popular media. The worst part was that a lot of your classmates were liking Mircalla’s posts over yours. 

Not that _that_ was the metric of successful argumentation… but still.

“Right…” Betty picks at her nails, clearly still unconvinced. “Have you even met this girl yet?”

“... No.” 

But that wasn’t from lack of trying. Hell, you even asked— _demanded—_ that your mutual friends introduce you two in person. But Lafontaine started plugging their ears and belting the Spongebob Squarepants theme song whenever you brought it up. And Perry just silenced you with a sweltering look before you could even finish your request.

“I don’t even know what she _looks_ like,” you complain. 

Betty hums thoughtfully as she hops off her bed. “May I?” You push your laptop over and she begins a-clicking right away. “Oh, wow…” she muses after a while.

“What?” You try to peek around at the screen.

“Her privacy settings are so- _lid_. You can’t even see the comments on her profile picture. Or even send her a friend request…”

"As if anyone would _want_ to," you grumble under your breath. "Anyway, so far, all I know is that she strongly identifies with black cats and enjoys making everyone around her suffer.”

“Everyone? Or just you?” Betty laughs and hands back the laptop. “Well, there’s one more thing you know about her,” she says as an afterthought, climbing back onto her bed. 

This time, you’re the one unconvinced. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“She’s definitely hot.” You narrow your eyes in confusion, prompting Betty to continue with a shrug, “Look. There’s no way anyone can be _that_ pretentious and self-absorbed without the world kissing their ass on the regular.”

You glance back at your Facebook, notifications popping up as Mircalla likes all of your comments as per usual. “Maybe she just _thinks_ she’s really attractive.”

Betty shakes her head. “Nah. That girl’s _definitely_ a ten,” she declares before closing her eyes and slipping on a pair of headphones.

Your leg bounces restlessly as you glare at the cartoon black cat—its smirk frozen, staring back at you mockingly until you slam your laptop shut. 

//

“Danny!” you call out, hand waving enthusiastically. 

The red-headed lit TA was definitely not expecting you to be that loud or that close, as evidenced by the bewilderment flashing across her features. “Hey, Laura! Whatcha doing here?”

“Oh, you know… Just hanging around,” you lie with a giggle. Because you’d rather jump headfirst into a dumpster fire than admit to lurking around the English department for a half-hour just to engineer this very interaction. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going, I guess,” Danny says, fingers running effortlessly through her long, flowing red hair. Your gaze briefly follows the movement before snapping back to her eyes. Which is just as great of a view, if not more. “How about yourself?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” you say, waving your hand around nonchalantly. “I mean… _good._ I’m doing so good— _well!”_

Uh oh. 

You definitely have to rectify this looking-like-a-rambling-ding-dong-and-a-half situation you got going here, but then Danny flashes a smile and your grasp of the entire English language falters, littering the floor with nonsensical jumbles of letters and punctuation.

Danny bounces on the balls of her feet a few times during the silence before saying, “Anyway… I should probably get going! I got a class to teach in a few minutes.”

“Wait!” You flail a little as you try to decide whether you should grab her arm or not. She watches your hands flapping about with a confused frown. But thankfully, she still pauses at your request. “There’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about…”

“Oh.” Danny settles back in front of you, again with that radiant smile of hers. “Of course, Laura. What’s up?”

You laugh out loud nervously—the unexpected sound surprising both Danny and yourself—as you try to gather the right words.

“So…” 

Great, you’re almost there.

“There’s this pie thing…” 

_ Bingo! _

“... Pie thing,” Danny echoes, forehead wrinkling in a way that’s probably outlawed in three different continents. 

“Right! Pie thing! You know, where they’re having a special on pies for some sort of promotion. I think they’re sponsoring the undead glee club or something...? Anyway, it kinda sounds like a lot of fun and maybe we can…” You force yourself to stop wringing your hands, but you can’t convince your eyes to look up. “… _Idunnogotogether?”_

All right. There it is.

You eventually chance a peek and find that Danny’s cheeks have gone almost as red as her hair. Which could be a good thing. Or maybe a bad thing. But hopefully a good thing!

“Like… in a date way?” she finally asks.

Your head jerks aimlessly at Danny’s words, but she must have understood your nod because her cheeks are now getting even redder, the blush swallowing up her neck.

“Gee, Laura… I, uh, don’t know what to say.”

You almost tell her that she doesn’t have to say anything. Just come with you. But that’s probably too forward at the moment and might even sound… less than innocent given the circumstances. 

“But… Well…” Danny continues slowly. “I was your TA last semester. And it's actually against school policy to fraternize with students within the past two years..."

Two years?

_Pfft._  That’s nothing! You can do that standing on your head while juggling Betty’s stuffed animals easy.

“Also… I have a girlfriend.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you say, your cheeks suddenly aflame (Or maybe they've been on fire this whole time?). “Right. That’s…” You’re nodding for some reason you can't exactly pinpoint at the moment. “… a thing! Yup. Okay. That’s fine!” 

Danny ducks her head, rubbing the back of her neck, and walks off after a few mumbled apologies, her feet haphazardly trampling all over the scattered remains of your silly little heart.

//

**Laura Hollis  
** :/

**S Lafontaine  
** Aw, frosh… It’s ok!!

**Laura Hollis  
** :/  :/

 **S Lafontaine  
** Come onnnnn, theres plenty of fish in plenty of different aquatic ecosystems!!

**Laura Hollis  
** ://///////////////////

**S Lafontaine  
** L A U R A 

**S Lafontaine  
** Forget Danny!! She doesn’t even know what she’s missing out on!!! 

**S Lafontaine  
** Plus, she was too tall anyway!!

**Laura Hollis  
** :P

**S Lafontaine  
** I’m being srs! How would you even kiss her? Even on your tippytoes, you’d probs only reach her boobs lol

**S Lafontaine  
** …. OH. I get it now.

**Laura Hollis  
** >:(

 **S Lafontaine  
** ... really? You’re really gonna be like that rn

 **Laura Hollis  
** >8(

**S Lafontaine  
** omg cheer up, froshieeeealskdfjalskfjaasdfa

**S Lafontaine  
** Hey! 

**S Lafontaine  
** The 100's on tonight and tumblr says that clexa’s finally gonna do the do!! So why dontcha come on over and we can watch the episode together and eat junk food till we pass out??

**S Lafontaine  
** What better way to get  o v e r  a crush than by watching Clarke get  u n d e r  Commander Lexa, amirite?

**Laura Hollis  
** :)

**S Lafontaine  
** THERE WE GO!! GOOD! SEE YOU SO SOON OK?

** Laura Hollis  
** Okay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert! 
> 
> Lexa dies that episode, lol.
> 
> ..... _*sighs heavily*_
> 
> School starts up again in the morning, so please leave comments—happy, angry, or otherwise—so that I'll actually have something to look forward to tomorrow... 
> 
> Or not. Up to you!
> 
> Either way, thank you for reading (:


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been **forever** since I've updated, but I figured the anniversary of Lexagate was as good a time as any. 
> 
> Sorry! But I'm back! 
> 
> (Grad school? What grad school?)

Just when you think you’re finally done with crying, more hot tears shed of their own accord. Drying cold and useless down your cheeks. In your ears. And on your neck... It’s a miracle that your eyelids haven’t rusted shut yet from all the salt—tears and otherwise.

You called in sick to all your classes for the day and spent most of your time moping in your bed, just glued to Tumblr.

There’s not much you can say that hasn’t already been said or is being said, so you’re just reblogging the relevant commentary. The posts mostly echo your sentiments: sad with more than a hint of outrage bubbling underneath, but above all, gravely disappointed.

You pass over gifs and photosets of _The 100_ as hastily as possible. 

Especially the Clexa scenes.

How did the show burrow so thoroughly into the ground, reaching deep enough to bury yet another queer woman character? It’s amazing how something that you had held in such high regard now fills you with a hollow pain, bone-deep and heavy.

Simply put, you’re in mourning. 

And you know that it’s ridiculous, of course. Because on the one hand, Commander Lexa kom Trikru— _reshwe, Heda_ —is _just_ a fictional character. But on the other hand, she was much more than that because honestly, she was just so, so important to you.

Lexa was so good.

Lexa deserved better. 

When it first happened, you and Lafontaine just sat there. Shell-shocked. Then one of you eventually broke the reverie with the first sob, letting loose an onslaught of wails and tears and heartbreaks a-plenty from both of you.

To be completely honest, you can’t even recall how the episode had ended. You were too numb by then to register anything that happened after that stray bullet had hit. 

You don’t even care anymore. 

Not everyone seems to quite understand the extent of your sorrow. That much was obvious from the tentative way Perry peered into the living room where you and Lafontaine stayed a good two hours crying after the episode. She didn’t quite get it, but she knew enough not to say anything.

Perry gave you two plenty of space to weep—ahem, _wail—_ in peace, then eventually entered the room, wordlessly setting a tray of freshly baked brownies before you before wrapping herself around her partner and squeezing your hand gently in hers.

You ended up eating 8 brownies that night.

They let you stay the night, which was a good call on their part, considering how swollen your eyes were. With that, on top of your general clumsiness, you most definitely would have run into every lamppost and trashcan on the way home. It probably would have hurt less than the sunken hole in your chest, but also disruptive enough to disturb your neighbors and get you written up with campus security.

You were sniffling too much to get too much sleep, but it was nice being squeezed between two of your closest friends.

But now you’re back in your room, lying on your stomach, wrapped up in five fluffy blankets with your already damp yellow pillow tucked underneath your chin. You're scouring the internet for more relatable thinkpieces to share on Facebook. 

You’ve always been a good little gay media studies major. 

Your newsfeed has a fair number of like-minded individuals—you have a lot of queer friends, after all—their commentary ranging from subtextual references to the Bury Your Gays trope to flat-out vitriolic rants directed specifically at Jason fucking Rothenberg. 

Your status was more on the sad side. There’s not much else you can feel at the moment. 

So far, it has 37 likes and counting with one *hug* comment from dear ol’ Kirsch, but for the most part, nobody seems to want to comment on it, which you’re fine with.

As you’re scrolling through Facebook, another relevant article pops up courtesy of Lafontaine. It’s one you’ve already read before, so you click on the post to comment with another article that you felt furthered this particular author’s points. But then you see that someone else has already commented on it. 

And for the first time in nearly 24 hours, you feel something other than a deep sorrow. 

You’re straight-up furious.

 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Okay, but what did you expect?

 

You know you’re not supposed to be doing this anymore, but a white-hot anger has cut through the haze of numbness and you’re latching onto this train of thought as if your life depended on it. Fingers twitching over your keyboard, you mull over  _all_ thedifferent ways you can respond, covering every single emotional base available to you.

But in the end, you just settle on a simple one: 

 

**Laura Hollis:** Hi.

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** … Hey, creampuff.

**Laura Hollis:** May I ask what you meant by your comment?

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Oh boy. Let me guess… You’re a fan of this show? 

**Laura Hollis:** Yeah. Well, was… I don’t know. It’s still in transition…

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Right. So, they lured you in with the promises of sapphic dalliances only to kill off the lesbian in the most predictable way possible. I guess you can say that it went 0 to The 100 real quick. 

 

Something snaps right behind your narrowed eyes and your fingers are already flying over your keyboard almost faster than your thoughts can form.

 

**Laura Hollis:** What is wrong with you!? We’re real, actual people who had something terrible happen to us and all you can do is make crappy jokes. Are you really so damaged that you’re incapable of caring about anything!?!

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** All right, look, cupcake. I don’t know about you, but I’ve lived as a queer woman for a long fucking time. So long that I’ve learned not to put my trust in the hands of straight white men, okay? And let me just tell you that it doesn’t actually get better. What’s the point of moping around and sharing sad articles about fictional characters anyway? It's pointless. 

**Laura Hollis:** At least I’m trying to do something.

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Oh, are you trying your very best? 

**Laura Hollis:** Well, it’s better than pretending to be all cool and disaffected when really you’re probably just miserable and alone! 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** Wow, you really got me there, sweetheart. 

**Mircalla Karn Stein:** And you really think you’re doing a lick of good? Will crying about it do anything?

You’re a child, and you understand nothing. Not about life. Not about *actual* issues. And certainly not about what it takes to survive in the real world. You know what? 

The sooner you stop playing the victim, the better off you’ll be. 

 

You blink a few times, taken aback. This is not the reaction you were expecting, but at the same time, you already know how you're going to reply. Or at least your fingers do. They always seem to move of their own accord anyway.

 

**Laura Hollis:** You know what? No, I’m not just going to give up. Maybe you’re right. Maybe the world doesn’t work exactly how I thought it was going to. Queer characters die all willy-nilly and nobody seems to care. And maybe that’s just the way it is, but that does not mean I have to accept it. 

I deserve better.

Lexa deserved better. 

Hell. Even you deserve better.

 

Mircalla doesn’t answer, which isn’t completely out of character for her, but this time she doesn’t like all of your comments like she usually does. But maybe she’s just currently away from her Facebook at the moment. 

Whatever. 

Feeling somewhat triumphant though a little unsatisfied, you put away your laptop and bury yourself even more deeply into your bed, promptly falling asleep. 

A restless nap and a couple of hours later, the sun has set and your bladder is demanding that you leave your dreams and bed. You check your phone afterwards and your pulse picks up slightly when you see a few notifications. 

But it’s just Lafontaine who’s liked all your comments on their article and they’re the only one to have done so. Which is fine. 

You have better things to tend to for now. Your growling stomach for example. 

Without a second thought, you send out an invitation to Laf for a late-night meal at the local diner, which they promptly accept.

 

// 

 

“How do you feel?” Laf asks, once your orders are put in. 

“How do you think?” you mutter wryly. “Probably as well as you are, judging from your dark circles.” You trace your finger on the table aimlessly as Laf sips at their water with a grim nod. You suck your teeth thoughtfully. “… So…”

Laf raises an eyebrow. “So…?”

“About that, er, _discussion_ on your wall…”

Lafontaine groans and covers their face with their hands. “No! Frosh, I told you. All that’s _your_ business!” 

“Yeah, I know, I know,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “I just wanted to ask if you thought that, you know… if _I_  won this round.”

Rolling their eyes heavily, Lafontaine takes a moment to consider your question. After a couple of more sips of water, they finally relent, “I guess so? As much as you _can_ win in a Facebook argument anyway.”

“So, you agree. I won!” you exclaim. “Why else would my comments be met with—dare I say?—stunned silence?”

“… Sure,” Laf says, rolling their eyes yet again. “Whatever you say, frosh.”

It’s not much, but you’re taking it as a win.

Any small comfort in the midst of these dark, dark times is much appreciated regardless of how trivial it may seem to your best friend. You’re still reveling in the triumph, swaying in your seat, when your ears vaguely register the jingle at the door, indicating newcomers to the diner. You don’t think too much about it until Lafontaine kicks your shin.

“Ow!” You scowl at your friend, rubbing at your most likely bruising leg. “Laf, what the hell?”

“Shut up!” Laf hisses at you, loud enough to contradict their own words. They duck as low as possible in their seat. “Danny’s here!”

“She is?” You sustain a minor whiplash as your head snaps around, and indeed she is. And Danny isn’t alone.

“That must be the girlfriend,” Laf muses, echoing the same thoughts you’ve been pushing into the corner of your traitorous heart. You look over and see Lafontaine peeking through their fingers rather obviously. 

“Not necessarily,” you say in a sigh. “They could just be… you know, friends?”

“Friends. Just gal pals holding hands. Sure, Jan.”

“Exactly! Platonic hand-holding should be more of a thing!” you protest rather hotly. “And as a self-proclaimed feminist, I’m sure Danny would _totally_ be all about de-normalizing so-called romantic trends and…” You trail off helplessly because the ridiculously curvy blonde at Danny’s side is now on her toes to kiss Danny on the cheek. 

Lafontaine’s face somehow remains as blank as ever. “So. Platonic, huh?”

“Yup…”

“Right. Because I always press my lips against my friends’. Oh, and slip them some tongue too. How wonderfully friendly.”

You just face forward, dropping your face into your hands. And to your great disapproval and discomfort, you hear a familiar voice getting closer and closer to your table until…

Lafontaine kicks your leg again, needlessly signaling to you. They even lean closer to whisper out loud, “Hey! Guess who’s sitting right behind you.” 

“This day is homophobic,” you mumble bitterly. “First Lexa. Now _this.”_

You _really_ don’t want to hear all the little things Danny wants to compliment her girlfriend about, each instance of praise answered with a cascade of giggles and smooching sounds. And as mundane as their conversation is, each word seems to be punching you straight in the gut, which might explain the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

Her girlfriend’s voice sounds light and full of mirth, and honestly she seems like the sweetest person in the entire world. 

So, you already kinda hate her. 

“Frosh…” Lafontaine refrains from kicking you this time, opting to just nudge at your sore shin. “You okay?” 

“Yup… Just thinking about the Bury Your Gays trope again,” you say as quietly as you can. The last thing you want is for Danny to notice you in all of your post-mourning glory. Oh God, what if she thinks you were crying over _her._ “And Lexa and Clarke and all those fun things. You know me.”

Lafontaine shoots you a weak smile and pokes one of your clenched fists. “Come on, frosh. It’s not _that_ bad.”

But, oh, it is. 

Because before you can say anything in reply, you hear a very familiar and very unwelcome voice piping up behind you. 

“Laura? Is that you?”

Perfect.

You feel the wooden booth beneath you fall away, stomach plummeting along with it. Lafontaine is staring at you with their mouth screwed in a half-smile that’s definitely _not_ supposed to be a smile. And briefly—very, very briefly—you wonder what it would take to get an asshole TV executive to bury you right then and there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me how angry you are about the lateness of this update (:
> 
> Either here or on tumblr (whythinktoomuch) because it satisfies my kink either way!
> 
> Love!


End file.
